Two Sides of a Double Edged Sword
by Foresaken-Shadow
Summary: In the one instance she lets her guard down, he appears. Ling/Lan Fan


**A/N:** Second FMA fic here…I love so many of the pairings. Again, I have only seen the _Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood_ anime, not read the books, not seen the first series. I'm running on the knowledge _Brotherhood_ has given me, now that I've caught up to episode 50…something.

This fic doesn't take place at any particular time nor place, its just a scenario that popped into my mind. Please feel free to review and please enjoy the read!

(Also, the version of _FMA: Brotherhood_ I've watched call this girl "Lan Fan." I'm guessing there's another translation to make it "Ran Fan?" Regardless, I'm referring to her as Lan.)

**Two Sides of a Double Edged Sword**

In the one instance she lets her guard down, he appears.

x x x

He appeared out of nowhere. Like a shadow. Like death.

I was immediately immobilized. His breath on my neck made me tremble, until his hand crushed around mine. Then I was shocked still.

"You're the girl," the voice purred. I felt my head swim. It was not the Young Lord who had control this time. I barely nodded. He had seen my face before, I knew, and if he was devious enough he probably had already torn through the Young Lord's memories and found me there as well. As I considered this, his grip tightened so that it nearly crushed every bone in my hand.

Ice touched my spine. This wasn't right. My instincts went so wild that it was actually causing me pain to stand so close to him. The trees around us howled warily. Even the woods knew this wasn't the Young Lord—that he was being manipulated and needed to be freed. I did the only thing I could think of. "Young Lord," I breathed, "Please."

I could virtually feel his smirk though my back was to him. "Scared?" the voice pressed.

As I opened my mouth to hiss "No," his hand released me and suddenly his fingers were tracing their way up my good arm. Between the awful chi, the dark of night, and my heart pounding in my ears, I couldn't think straight. I said nothing.

"Don't be afraid," he chuckled. I wanted to sob. "If it helps, let it be known that he is screaming for you," the voice purred again.

It was too much. In the blink of an eye, I was suddenly about-faced and both of his hands were crushing my elbows. He was snarling and blood was trickling from a thin line on his cheek and his breath seemed to be a bit more ragged than I recalled a moment before. My mind was slow to catch up—it took a moment for me to realize I had jabbed him in the ribs and tried to slash his face, only for him to catch me before I could take two steps away.

"Release him!" I screamed. The strength of my voice surprised even me.

His brow jumped. "Or what?" The horrible smirk returned. My stomach turned over. He saw my fear. I wasn't bothering to hide it. He relinquished one arm and I promptly jerked away from him, but his opposite hand was still clamped around my automail arm. Tears welled in the corner of my eyes. Once again my body jumped ahead of my thoughts, and I'd produced a knife and was holding it to his neck—it blocked by a steel-coated clawed hand. The ultimate shield. The knife flipped in my hand. I drove it into his thigh. He cried out. Ling Yao's voice cracked through the pain. A tear slipped from my eyes.

Fire suddenly burned in the homunculus' eyes. The Young Lord still could not break through. The man snarled as the clawed hand fell to his leg, wrapped around the knife and drew it from the flesh—it soaked in crimson and was dripping sickeningly as he held it over his shoulder.

"I was going to ask for a kiss, but killing you will do just as well."

My eyes went wide. It was the inevitable end. I had left myself unguarded and I had been found by my greatest enemy. At least it would be by his hands—I would die beside him and could take comfort from the thought that the Young Lord would be there and grieving for me, if only on the inside.

But he hesitated. The knife shook in his trembling hand, locked above his shoulder. His eyes flashed quickly between mine when suddenly he growled again. The most horrible look of pain swallowed his face, and another tear escaped me.

"Young Lord," I whispered.

His knuckles went white before his hand went lax entirely. The knife fell, point first into the earth with a dull thud.

"L…Lan F-Fan," he struggled. His hand suddenly tightened around my arm again. The Young Lord was fighting it. "L…L…"

"Young Lord!"

"Please," he breathed. I knew he was negotiating with the demon within. But then his eyes found mine and I saw that the fire had been extinguished—if only for a moment. I wanted to help. I wanted to do something—anything to ease this pain and bring him back.

He seemed to have his own thoughts on the situation as our lips suddenly crushed together. I couldn't help the feeling that suddenly swelled in my chest. It was like I was just realizing what I had needed all along. It was like a breath of air after being under water too long.

One hand was still clutching my automail. The other brushed the skin my neck. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and silently begged for him to never let go.

"Don't leave…leave me," I faintly heard him say. My fingers dug into his flesh in an attempt to make his request a promise. Then he broke from my lips, his face pained yet again. Sympathy dripping from my eyes, I blinked several times before kissing the corner of his mouth gingerly once more.

"Young Lord," I pleaded, my voice cracked and weak, "Please, don't leave _me_."

Our faces an inch apart, I glanced his eyes and found the fire returning. Ling Yao's voice cracked when he replied, "I cannot promise you…anything…"

"No—"

My voice was lost in his breath. His lips took mine again, though this time more ravenously. Something twisted in my mouth and ran the length of my teeth before his locked on my lower lip. I barely managed to twist my arm out of his and throw a fist into his chest. Greed's venomous breath upon mine was enough to make me retch.

Chuckling darkly as I finally freed myself, the man straightened while rubbing the spot my automail had jabbed. "Gotcha," he said.

"You 'got' nothing," I growled. "Release the Young Lord, you undeserving cretin!"

He shook his head. "No can do, baby."

"Then I'll cut you out of him!" My heel caught the edge of the blade stuck in the earth and flipped it into my waiting hand.

The man folded his arms across his front and the smug little smile threatened to take over his whole face. I hated to see the Young Lord's body being used in such a way. The face he currently wore would never grace his features if he were truly in control. He would not be so venomous and vicious. He would not touch me in such a way—he was more of a gentleman than that—even if he wanted a woman he would never coerce her. His voice cut across my thoughts.

"How do you intend to do that? The Philosopher's Stone is infused in his blood. You would have to drain him entirely of life to rid its power,"

As he spoke, I lunged at him feet first and managed to completely miss my target. I was halfway over his shoulder when a cold hand caught me by the automail shoulder and threw me to the ground. Soon he crouched beside me, holding me down by the throat with one hand and tracing fingers down the length of my stomach with the other. I clutched the knife desperately and meant to cut his face again but the shield surfaced out of nowhere. I was defeated. Though my mind would not realize it, I was defeated.

His hand fell upon my thigh. And just as the ravenous look began to sparkle in his eyes, he hesitated. My knee kicked up and caught him in the face. I flipped over myself, my breath suddenly strained and weak. This being said, when I flipped upside down, my landing was terrible—I staggered as the earth jolted my feet and shocked my ankles.

Blood was seeping from his swollen cheek. The sick and twisted grin simply would not fade. "Such a shame. You really are so beautiful…" His eyes closed and he drew a deep breath as he came to stand on two feet. "And the way he's crying out for you? Tragic." When the fiery eyes peeled open again, he was flying at me.

"No-!"

My only option was to run. He was too strong. Greed was far too deadly for me to face alone. Yet I could not leave the Young Lord's body. He was in there somewhere, fighting Greed's poisonous fangs in his soul. I wanted to help. I wanted to free him.

I loved him. I did not want to see him waste away in a shell. What I did not realize was how powerful a thing love truly was. I would run for a day, a week, however long it took to wear the beast down. I would fight him singlehandedly. I would do whatever it took to restore the Young Lord's mind because I loved him more than life itself.

Another tear escaped me at the realization.


End file.
